I Need You
by Rothelena
Summary: Short PWP, inspired by the CTV-promo for 5x20. Somehow established Jisbon, rated a solid M (s-m-u-t-alert!), and mighty sad, I'm afraid (just like me ;D!). Just sometimes, Jane simply needs her...


_This is rated a big firm M , which equals smutty in my universe, and totally sad. Better don't read if you're feeling very down already- like me. (PLATONIC LOVE? Does Heller want to kill me only to be able to spit on my grave?)_

_Well. Did I say super-smutty? Really? Okay, let me say it again: SUPER-SMUTTY!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own "The Mentalist", and I don't make money from fan fiction._

**I Need You**

„Say it, Lisbon. Say it or I won't come."

"Jane, I swear, I'll…"

"Say it, Lisbon."

She closed her eyes and swallowed the groan like a brave little girl. Damn, she was getting too old for this, fast. But no way would she leave him here, slowly drowning in his obsession, getting farther and farther away from where she could still reach him.

No. Way.

"Jane, I need you." She said, hearing the obvious annoyance in her own voice.

So sick of playing games sometimes.

The door opened with the familiar rattle of decaying matter, and when she saw him, there was the sensation she knew so well and dreaded so much: the surge coursing through her whole body, gripping every cell, every fiber, making her heart thunder in her chest, her eyes growing moist with sheer longing. Love, white-hot, absolutely invincible. She didn't flinch, but it was a close call.

His expression was warm, gentle, and she knew he wasn't done playing. Her panties were wet and uncomfortable in an instant. Great. She could feel the hot flush running over her skin, and almost sank into his arms right there. Almost. She got a grip at the last second.

"It's nice to be needed." He said softly, and she felt herself involuntarily licking her lips.

She was so close to skipping up and down like a rubber ball with tension, but stopped herself with her last ounces of willpower.

They were silent for a moment, and Lisbon knew her eyes spoke volumes, all the love she kept hidden like the dirtiest of secrets, the fierce longing, how her whole body itched to melt into his, every second, every day. Tough cop at day or lonely woman at night, she always wanted, wanted, wanted, sucking up every tiny scrap of affection she could get. What a miserable creature she was these days.

"So," she shrugged eventually, "are you coming or what?"

He smiled. Her legs turned to jelly. She wanted to kick something solid, urgently.

"Not yet," he cooed, "the question is how much you, Lisbon, need me."

She groaned and rolled her eyes in sheer despair. But hey- she had asked for this, hadn't she?

"Okay, Jane, let's cut this short… what do you want?"

His grin deepened.

"Oh Lisbon, don't disappoint me… the question is not WHAT, but WHERE… your apartment? Tonight?"

Her heart almost jumped out of her throat. It had been a while since he had asked that of her, he tended to get submerged in his own obsessive investigation, forgetting everything and everyone around him, even her. Sometimes she thought she was nothing but a convenient booty call… and then he would come to her office late at night and ask her to sit on her couch, only to lie down next to her, putting his head on her lap. She would stroke his hair then, murmuring soothing words of comfort, his silent tears wetting the fabric of her pants, his hands clutching her thighs hard enough to leave bruises. Or he would take her hand and just look at it, every finger, every inch of skin, turning it left and right, kissing her fingertips once in a while or placing her palm on the side of his face, roughened by his stubble. He would look at her, and no words would be necessary. Because she knew every time.

And whenever the need became too much to bear, he would ask if he could come to her apartment at night.

"Jane," she whispered hoarsely, "you almost broke my bed last time."

He chuckled.

"Lisbon, Lisbon, what a naughty law enforcement officer you are… so you'd like it better if we broke someone else's bed- that of some chintzy hotel? How very… rebel of you."

She couldn't help grinning, absolutely couldn't.

"Okay." She sighed. "My place. You can come over at nine, and I promise I'll open the door."

"Great." He said, rubbing his hands as if he'd settled an awesome deal.

But when he grabbed her hand, his touch was so soft and tender she shuddered. His eyes were that of a love struck boy, and she wanted to kiss his lips so bad she bit her own to stop herself from actually doing it.

"Let's solve your case," he breathed, "so we'll have time for the more important things."

He pulled her with him, easily keeping her upright when she stumbled a little.

Xxxxxxxxxx

_You're not fifteen anymore, Senior Special Agent Teresa Lisbon. So act your age, dammit._

She was always nervous and hyped up when she waited for him, and never really knew how to handle her budding excitement.

She showered. Twice. Then blow-dried her hair, which she never did on an ordinary night.

She forced herself to do her very few dishes, then forced herself not to do them AGAIN.

She had no idea what to wear (every time he came for a visit), so she had opted for a simple tank top and panties, mainly because she liked to stroll around her apartment half naked, and that wasn't even a lie. The fact that they didn't have a "normal" relationship (and what could be called normal in Patrick Jane's world anyway?) she didn't have a lot of routine with this, which made her skittish and fidgety like hell.

It was already past nine, wasn't it?

Calm down, she told herself, her hands trembling while she straightened her forks in the drawer for the umpteenth time, he will be here soon. He had never stood her up.

When the doorbell rang, she almost jumped out of her skin, then told herself to get real, for god's sake. STERNLY. This was ridiculous, dammit.

He looked too delicious for words. Hair so fluffy and curly she knew it was freshly showered. His smile bright and carefree, and with his lips always looking so baby-soft…

She was a little disappointed when he didn't lean down for a kiss, but simply brushed past her, carrying a bottle of wine in his hand. A bottle they would never drink- she had about twenty of those. He put the new exemplar on her kitchen counter and turned to look at her.

"Glad you dressed for the occasion, Teresa," he whispered, and she felt her skin warming under his gaze, so much lust, want, heat.

He extended his hand in invitation and she took it, allowing him to drag her up the stairs into her bedroom.

She watched him cautiously while he kicked off his shoes and sat down on her bed, his back resting against the headboard, staring expectantly at her.

"So… how do you want to do it this time?"

She sighed.

"How about we don't make a science out of it but just…"

He moved so fast she never finished the sentence, grabbing her around the middle with a firm grip, pulling her down before he turned and pinned her to the mattress with his body.

"Yes," he whispered, his hot, sweet breath making her mouth water, "no science."

He pulled her hair to make her rise her face like an offering, and it drove her insane, his firm hand on her scalp, his lips so close she could almost taste him. She knew her eyes were begging, desperate, and although she hated it she couldn't stop, fighting against the urge to cover the distance between them on her own, show the final weakness by claiming him.

He took her mouth in a kiss so fierce her fingertips turned cold with shock. He pushed his tongue between her lips so his taste filled her up like sweet poison, and she sucked and licked like a madwoman, wrapping herself around him until she couldn't tell where she ended and he began.

Jane got frantic, and she loved it, every damn time, loved the moment when she felt his control slipping, his movements getting urgent, almost violent. He desperately fumbled with the buttons on his jacket, vest, shirt, pushing fabric apart with determined frenzy. He stopped again and again to give her more of those fierce, molten kisses, wet, hungry, their tongues dueling outside their mouths for supremacy. She slipped out of the uncomfortably wet panties as fast as possible , her tank top going the same way only seconds later. Jane opened his belt and shed pants and underwear hastily, not stopping for a moment before he was completely naked.

She shook with excitement, staring at him with the kind of wonder he never ceased to awake inside of her. She loved him like she had never loved anyone else before, and it felt strange and hopeful and always burned like a sweetish pain that slowly consumed her.

He covered her whole body with his, her tiny frame swallowed by his larger one, and his kisses turned warm, playful, teasing her gently , always pulling out of her reach whenever she tried to get closer. She growled with frustration, and he chuckled tenderly .

"No science," he breathed, "but let's make this lady's choice- you decide what you want to play first."

His hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her close, his grip rough, hard. He knew exactly how to touch her to drive her wild, insane with lust for him, nothing but his to take, to own.

Lisbon smiled, arching inside his embrace, before she wrapped her legs around his and used all her strength to push him off her, making him roll onto his back with a soft bout of laughter.

He stretched his arms out on the mattress, his position relaxed and open, ready for everything, and she felt light, happy, relieved from all the sorrow they had been through lately, the lonely nights so far away for now.

She kissed a trail down his chest, the sparse blond hairs tickling her nose when she ventured to play with his nipples. He closed his eyes, and she reveled in the happy grin that spread over his features when she sucked one of them into her mouth, gently raking her teeth over the tender flesh. He giggled and squirmed slightly, his erection growing against her breasts until it was its full giant size, and a shudder ran up and down her spine in anticipation.

His nipples were utterly sensitive, but he was extremely responsive to her touch anyway, shivering and moaning through all her caresses in obvious pleasure.

She kissed her way down his abdomen, pressing a soft kiss on the tip of his cock. She sighed softly in awed worship- there were no words for how she LOVED doing this, and there was nothing in the world that could rush her now. Jane arched his body in ecstasy, but she used her whole slight weight to push him down again, straddling his legs to keep him still. She licked her lips in hunger before she descended on him, taking the first two inches of his length into her mouth before she slowly pulled back again, swirling her tongue around the crown as if she were licking ice cream. Jane cried out and tried to wriggle his hips, but she easily kept him immobile, lapping at the throbbing vein on the underside of his shaft. She carefully nibbled on his skin, his groans getting louder and louder while she worked her way up, finally pushing her tongue into the tiny slit on top of his cock, sucking precious drops of pre-come into her hungry mouth.

She loved everything about this, his taste, the hardness and heat of his flesh, the sounds he made while she worked him, how he lost control every second a little more, melting under her touch.

She sucked on the swollen head of his towering erection, her lips sliding effortlessly through his rich pre-come, sweet and slightly salty at the same time, so good she teased him a little more with the tip of her tongue to produce more. She raked her fingernails over his hips, making him twitch all over, his groans turning into hoarse screams of lust.

But when she swallowed as much of his erection as she could and gave him a few slow sucks, he ended the game, ruthlessly grabbing her head to make her release him. She did so reluctantly and was about to protest when his hands grabbed her roughly, pulling her up until she lay flat on her back, him rolling on top of her to stop her from escaping.

"Hey," she complained, "I was enjoying that!"

"Playtime's over," he snarled, showering the side of her neck with sharp love bites, "when I said you could decide I didn't mean you can drive me nuts and go unpunished, you little witch!"

He kneaded her breasts until her whole body ached with need, and when he kissed her, his demanding tongue teasing and fighting her into submission, she went willingly, groaning into his mouth with desire for him.

He spread her legs as far as he could and brought his cock to her wet flesh, the enormous head nudging her tender entrance.

Oh god. She felt swollen and so aroused it was almost painful, and his enormous erection woke sensations inside her that were hardly bearable. She tried to wriggle free, but he used his whole body weight to hold her down, his lips close to her ear, his breath hot, panting, driving her even wilder.

He still didn't enter her, and the itch was pure agony, making her sob with need.

"Jane," she whispered desperately, "fuck me, please- I beg of you. Now."

"I love you." He whispered, and yes- she knew.

She had always known, even when he had ignored her, mocked her, run away with Lorelei Martins. When she had cried herself to sleep, had been worried sick about him, had needed him so much she had hurt all over. Even then, she had always known it, deep down, and it had made the suffering even worse. Deeper. More important.

She knew she didn't need to answer, because he read her like a book, and she oozed her love for him, every pore, every shudder that ran through her body.

He looked at her, his eyes sweet and warm, and nodded gently, his fingertips dancing over her face.

"I know I hurt you, Teresa, and I am so, so sorry."

When he pushed his cock inside her, the lights seemed to go out in her universe, before they flashed back to life, drowning her in their thunderous beam. There was nothing she could feel but him, so hard and huge inside her, his arms caging her, forcing her to take his ruthless penetration. The itch became even stronger, and she almost begged him to thrust, take her so hard he would break the damn bed this time.

Jane looked at her before he closed his eyes and made her explode.

He thrust so hard she almost came immediately, her sheath constricting around his cock, pounding into her at an insane speed. The bed banged against the wall every time he slammed back inside, filling her to the brim, his hard length rubbing tender nerve endings into a screaming frenzy, and she couldn't breathe, couldn't cry out, her world defined by his arms and cock and lips.

"Harder," she breathed hoarsely, "please, Patrick, harder."

He complied immediately, putting a pillow over her head so that she wouldn't bump against the headrest before he wrapped his hands around the wooden rails, and damn, did he fuck her harder. His shaft ground into her cervix with every rough stroke, and it hurt so good, pushing her into a multiple orgasm so fierce she saw stars.

"I can do harder, Teresa," he croaked, "I can do whatever you want."

Her fingernails scratched his back in her need to get closer and he growled without slowing his speed, pumping into her in that wild, frantic, rough rhythm that made her come again and again. She arched her back, felt the enormous stretch of her walls around his cock, dilating her soft flesh to the point of tearing, the friction so enormous she seemed to burn with it.

She saw his eyes flutter shut and realized how close he was, how it had to feel for him, his face contorted in delirious pleasure, his perfect lips parted in ecstasy. He shuddered violently and cried out before she felt the first jet of his seed like the punch of a fist. She knew the force of his ejaculations and craved it with a vengeance, pushing her hips against his with all the power she could muster. Jane continued to thrust erratically, coming copiously inside of her, she felt the satiny liquid running down her buttocks and almost squealed with delight, she loved when he made a mess, soiling everything with his semen, making her skin sticky with it.

With a last shivering breath he collapsed on her, and she caught his lips in a sweet, playful kiss, her tongue toying with his until he was breathless and horny again.

"Nonono," he chuckled, "I can't do that again tonight."

She flexed her internal muscles around his length and felt him harden immediately.

"Liar," she whispered against his lips, "I know you can."

"You're insatiable, my greedy little princess. It seems I can never fill you up enough."

"Keep trying," she smiled, pulling his lower lip between her teeth.

"Don't complain if I wear you out, little one."

She snorted.

"As if I'd ever complained."

Jane pulled out with a sigh, making her growl in frustration. He was fully hard again, and she eyed his erection with a considerable pout.

He laughed at her.

"Wait, Lisbon. You'll regret that."

Xxxxxxxxxx

Teresa Lisbon was a truly fairy-like creature, her eyes so huge they seemed to house galaxies, swirling in their mysterious depths, her skin as pale as cream, mouth small and cherry-red, her hair perfect even if it was as disheveled as right now. Narrow waist, gently rounded hips, breasts made to fill his hands.

He had fallen in love soon, and worked years to hide it, even from himself. But what he loved most was not her beauty, it was HER. He had only once before met a woman strong enough to love him. And he had always thought he would never have that much luck again.

She was his one and only, there was nothing but her, and she granted him comfort, although she'd always known that he could give her nothing until Red John was dead, nothing but these rare stolen moments where she could be his rightful queen, taking from him whatever she wanted. How lonely she had to be all the time, never knowing when he would return, forced to pretend they were nothing but partners for days and weeks and months of being alone. He needed this distance, needed his solitude to regain his equilibrium, keep functioning when the despair threatened to swallow him whole, and to ensure she stayed away, he turned cold against her, closing her out to stay alone in his fateful entanglement with Red John. He even lied to himself about his damn feelings for her, hid them so deep in his memory palace that he didn't have to look at them.

But every now and then, he came to need her so much it seemed to threaten his life, his sanity, his very core. Then he came to her, and she opened her arms and became his savior without asking questions. He could give her nothing but this, but this, he would give her.

She always tasted like the first summer breeze after a long winter, thawing his cold heart out, evoking a fierceness he had never really felt before. In these moments, she chased everything from his mind, even the killer who had murdered his family. One day. One day he would be hers, Red John nothing but a painful memory, and they would live together in a small house by the sea, working to build a new future. But for now, he was a nomad, and this the only relief he could get.

He slowly wrapped his hands around her waist, enjoying a pretty caveman moment of satisfaction when he noticed that he could almost span it, and turned her onto her stomach, chuckling softly when she gave an unladylike sound of surprise. He appeased her quickly by showering her shoulders and back with gentle kisses, making her shiver with renewed arousal. The frantic urgency of their first mating was suspended for the moment, so he could thoroughly savor this, take his time exploring her.

Her skin was warm and soft, but he could feel her strong muscles rippling, responding to every gentle caress. He hummed softly, knowing full well she would get impatient in no time, urging him to take her rougher, faster, but he wanted to stretch the moment a little longer, before the passion started to devour him, turn him into a wild beast beyond control.

He pulled her onto all fours, felt her body shiver with anticipation and need, his fingers finding her swollen sex, wet from their combined juices. He always reveled in the knowledge that he had filled her with his seed, had left his mark on her, still welcome in her arms and body although he had done nothing to deserve it.

He stretched her soft, rosy entrance with his fingers, hardly able to push two of them into her, she was that tight, and suddenly he found that he couldn't wait any longer.

He was rock-hard for her, and when he put the tip of his cock against her soft folds, he was trembling all over. He gripped her waist with both hands and pushed, sliding deep with one single thrust, feeling her stretch around his shaft. He could hardly breathe, it just felt too good, every time, and it grounded him in seconds, integrating the stray parts of him, replenishing the strength he lost in the relentless hunt.

He made soft, cooing noises to soothe her, but it wasn't Lisbon who needed soothing, it was him, his nerves fluttering from the delicious friction of her tight sheath, and still he pressed deeper, her body arching in desire, pushing against him to make him go deeper, faster. He tightened his grip around her waist to keep her still but gave her his large inches in short, hammering strokes that made her cry out in sweet pleasure-pain.

Fully cushioned in her delirious heat, he felt close in seconds. He pulled her up so that her back lay against his chest and turned her head to kiss her, the way they loved to kiss, wet and open-mouthed, fueled by hunger and longing.

When he pushed her down again he felt exceedingly light-headed, his body vibrating with the need to shoot another load. Sliding out of her until only the tip of his cock stayed inside, he decided to give his angry little princess what she never ceased to demand.

He slammed his whole length into her as hard as he could and didn't even give her time to catch her breath before he thrust again, her flesh fighting, resisting, but powerless against the force of his strokes. He spread her legs wider and pulled her into each ruthless surge, picking up speed every time he pounded into her. Resting both hands on the headboard, he leaned into his thrusts with his full bodyweight, making it impossible for her to match his movements, unable to do anything but take his cock again and again, full-length, balls deep.

The feeling was raw and dangerous, it made his skin tingle, the friction causing so much heat everything seemed to be catching fire, he went faster still, his hips slapping against her firm buttocks until her skin reddened from the force. The wooden frame of her bed was creaking dangerously, but she begged him not to stop, and he didn't even think of it. Her screams swelled like music around him, and when she came he felt the sucking motion of her womb, her walls contracting around him like angry hands.

He didn't stop, his thrusts punishing, so hard her whole body quaked whenever he made impact, and still she came, exploding in an ocean of ecstatic cries that made him proud and needy to spill his seed into her right now.

The tension was murderous, his body poised in near-orgasm, he watched himself slamming in and out of her, their sizes obviously mismatched, but he drove into her again, again, her core clutching him until his senses shut down one by one, reduced to his awareness of her.

He was still hammering into her full speed when the first jet of semen was torn from his body, the tension pooling in the small of his back, and he couldn't stop pumping even when the bed cracked, wood splintering everywhere while the headrest still banged against the wall with every thrust he gave her, he was lost to everything, clutching her slim body close, filling her with endless streams of seed while her sheath milked him dry, and he was still ejaculating when the whole bed gave way beneath them, only his strong grip keeping them lodged when the mattress fell to the ground.

He felt her aftershocks caress his cock, still hard enough to give her a few tentative thrusts. It took him long to calm down and take in his surroundings.

"Damn." Lisbon whispered beneath him, but only a second later she started laughing, and he couldn't help joining in, and they laughed together for quite a while until reality set in.

He pulled out of her with painful regret, feeling the gush of seed that ran down her thighs, and she turned to look at him, placing her hand on the side of his face.

He hated that she had to do this, be so resolved about all of this, he felt evil and unworthy, giving her nothing but a few nights here and there before he vanished into his attic again, pretending she was nothing more but his partner in crime. Lying about what she truly meant to him, lying to her, himself, the whole world. His smug arrogance like an armor around him, pushing her away.

"Will you stay the night?" she whispered.

He never did, and she knew it, of course.

But when he was about to shake his head, it was as if he just couldn't, as if he would simply die, cease to be if he left her now.

"Yes." He breathed softly, almost a little shy, and her surprised smile made it worth everything.

He kissed her, soft, sweet lips pushing against his, and he opened his mouth to let her tongue in, playing with his full of warm, wet dedication, a Lisbon-kiss, hot and thorough.

He was afraid the headboard would fall down during the night, so he leaned up and pushed it to the side, taking care of every piece of wood that might disturb their sleep. When they finally lay on the flat mattress, she snuggled up against his chest, and he wondered why in hell he didn't do this every night, build a home with her, now, why wait. But he knew he would remember tomorrow- Red John, waiting in the shadows. No home for Jane until he had managed to catch his nemesis.

He promised his future to Lisbon in his mind, for the thousandth time, it was hers, only hers, he would come out of this alive, for her, and he would have this home with her.

But it hurt so much to leave. Every time.

He looked down at her, peaceful in her sleep, her dark hair a wild mess, her lips swollen from his kisses. He loved her so much.

Tomorrow, they would return to their jobs pretending nothing had happened. They would fail at first, steal some not so harmless glances at each other, some secret touches. When the occasion arose, he would buy her food or a small gift, embarrass her a little, make her blush like he did so well. He would help her, behave, be available and polite. Would stare at her with admiration and a love he couldn't yet hide. They would giggle and banter, and his mind would be filled with her and only little else.

And then Red John would start to taint his thoughts more and more, and he would vanish into his own world, shutting her out, lying and cheating, miserably trying not to love her because it hurt so much to love her like that and still be alone. Pushing her away. Seeing the hurt in her eyes, the disappointment, the annoyance because he told her the same lies over and over. Be gone all day until she forced him to work, he knew he would always cause her pain, there was no other way until he had caught the killer. He would hurt her more and more, every time he shut the door in her face, gave her evasive answers, let her work her cases alone because he had more important things to do.

Until one day, the need would become too strong, and he would take the slightest incentive to come to her again, just like he had today.

I need you.

And she would always take him back, and make him whole again for one precious night.

THE END

_Ouch. I'm crying myself now. Sorry for my depression, but I feel a sorry end coming… everything that's happening at the moment makes me think the finale will be extremely painful, and I have no idea how to survive the hiatus… meh. Thank you for reading! I hope the next episode will be more promising than Jane's "platonic love"- comment suggests (made me feel as if Heller is putting the whole Jisbon-thing on ice for now, and I'M GOING CRAZY if he does that!), I seriously need something cheery before the finale kills me… see you soon, my friends!_


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